


Partners

by unfolded73



Series: Labels [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Canon Queer Relationship, Fluff, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: The third in the Labels series. Set sometime between "Rock On" and "The Hospies."
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Labels [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602178
Comments: 54
Kudos: 398





	Partners

**_Partner,_ ** _n. a person with whom one shares an intimate relationship; one member of a couple_

~

“Stevie, no,” David said as she put a big bottle of discount shampoo into her grocery cart. “We sell shampoo at the store.”

“And are you going to give me some for free? Because I can’t afford the shampoo at your store.”

He wasn’t going to give it to her for free. She got enough free wine from them as it was. 

They rounded the end of the aisle and moved onto the next one, where Stevie threw a box of tampons into her cart. “No comments.”

“Why would I comment? It’s a normal part of being a vagina-having human.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I just figured you’d have an opinion on what brand I was buying.”

David sniffed. “It would seem you’ve found the limit to my wealth of opinions.”

Stevie had moved on to the condoms, and she pulled two boxes off the little hook, throwing one in her cart and one in David’s.

“Oh,” he said. “I don’t—”

“Don’t tell me those aren’t your brand; I’ve seen you buy them plenty of times.”

“No, it’s not that.” He carefully put the box back. “I just don’t need any.”

Stevie shot him a pitying look. “Patrick’s not putting out anymore?”

“No!” he said indignantly as he continued pushing his cart down the aisle. “We’re just not, um, using… condoms. Anymore.”

Stevie stopped and stared at him. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” David said, concentrating on his cart. “I have to go back; I forgot Patrick’s cereal.”

“So you’re saying it’s not a big deal that you’re here, buying groceries for the boyfriend with whom you’ve practically moved in and with whom you’re no longer using condoms.”

“I haven’t moved in, I just happen to know he’s out of cereal,” David said, trying not to smile.

“Because you’re _exclusive_ ,” she continued, bumping his shoulder. “ _Monogamous_.”

“We aren’t seeing other people because we’re in a committed relationship.” David replayed Patrick saying those words in his mind a lot. _Committed relationship_. “And he says he has no interest in seeing other people, so.” 

“Yeah, I heard about Ken,” Stevie said.

“Who told you about that?” David said, wincing.

“I got the full rundown from Alexis and from Patrick.”

David huffed. “So given that, and that we got tested ages ago, we decided to forego the condoms from now on.” He didn’t tell her the other thing that Patrick had asked him to promise: that if anything ever did happen with someone else, for either of them, the important thing was that they be honest with each other about it. Patrick said he could forgive infidelity, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive his health being put at risk in the interest of keeping a secret. It was an incredibly mature position to take, and David was still trying to wrap his head around the implications of it: that Patrick thought their relationship was solid enough to withstand something that serious. David had always thought of romantic relationships as something ephemeral that could be blown away by the prevailing winds. Not something stable, with thick stanchions sunk deep into the earth.

“That means you also have no interest in seeing other people,” Stevie said.

“Why would _I_ want to see other people? I had a lifetime of seeing other people, and it didn’t hold a candle to…” He blinked. He was getting way over-emotional for the frozen food aisle, where Stevie was currently putting a couple of frozen pizzas into her cart. “Get one of the pepperoni and sausage,” he told her.

“These are for me. Get your own.” She shot him a smirk. “Didn’t hold a candle to what?”

“To being with someone who knows me,” David said quickly.

“Hmm.” Stevie led David over to the cereal aisle so that he could get Patrick’s breakfast cereal. “And you realize that he probably feels the same way, right? Which is why he doesn’t care about experiencing other guys at this point either.”

“Yes, I realize that now,” David said, meeting her eyes.

“Good.” Stevie nodded, but then her face contorted into a grimace. “God, David, you’re so _happy_. It’s disgusting.”

~~~

David found himself surprised by his own confidence in their relationship when he noticed Patrick checking out a hot guy in bike shorts who stopped by the store. Rather than a stab of jealousy, he just felt a sort of warmth about it, that after so many years of not knowing himself and even after the Ken debacle, Patrick was allowing himself to openly admire another man. So when the guy left with a bottle of juice and was back on his bike outside, David grinned and commented, “This town has a criminal shortage of asses that perfect.”

And rather than looking guilty, Patrick laughed. “Oh my god, right?”

“Aside from yours, of course.”

Patrick snorted. “Sure,” he said, and once again David had to restrain himself from delivering his well-researched, thoroughly-sourced lecture on the perfection of Patrick’s ass to the man himself.

“Maybe we should carry more items geared to cyclists. Reusable water bottles, energy bars, that kind of thing,” David mused.

Patrick looked impressed. “That’s actually a great idea, even if it is rooted in your desire to check out guys’ asses.”

“Not just guys. I like the asses of all genders.”

“Okay, fine. But my point is, Elmdale has a long-distance cycling club. We could do some good business with them if they’re motivated to stop in town while they’re out riding on summer weekends.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon putting together a plan for sourcing fitness-related products, with frequent interruptions to help customers or for shameless innuendo between the two of them, and all of it was fun. Working with Patrick was fun. Flirting with Patrick was fun. Just being in Patrick’s presence was fun, and the fact that they’d been dating for over a year hadn’t made any of it any less fun. 

Of course, none of that meant David didn’t still have a possessive streak, and the next time the hot cyclist stopped in the store, David might’ve made a point of dragging his fingers along Patrick’s back where the guy could see. 

“You might be interested in these new artisanal protein bars we’re testing,” Patrick told the cyclist, giving David a pointed look like he knew what he was doing.

“Are they good?” Hot cyclist asked.

“I make a point of not eating things with that much granola in them, but my partner assures me they are,” David said, winking at Patrick.

They sold him four bars.

~~~

The thing was, the word ‘partner’ had always been a regular part of their vocabulary since they owned a business together, so when it started to slip out of David’s mouth in contexts that had less and less to do with the business, at first he didn’t realize the import of it. It was Alexis who had to point it out to him one evening when he was hanging out at the motel while Patrick was at the Wobbly Elm with his baseball team.

“You’ve started calling Patrick your partner,” she said.

David squinted up at her from his journal. “What? He’s my business partner.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what you mean by it now. You mean _partner_. You know. _Partner_.”

He opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it just as quickly with a click. 

“Like you guys are in it for the long haul.”

“Maybe we are,” David said, and _oh fuck_. Maybe they were.

“Are you going to propose?” she asked.

“ _What?_ ” His mind whited out at even the suggestion of them… would Patrick want that? To marry him? 

“You did always want to get married, David.”

“When I was young and naive and didn’t know that most people are terrible, fickle users.” But he thought about the wedding scrapbook from his childhood that he’d crammed into a suitcase on impulse when they’d been forcibly ejected from their house, the one that was now hidden under the knitwear in his cedar chest.

Alexis huffed, closing her magazine. “Yeah, but Patrick’s not. Patrick’s a sweetie and for some reason he loves you. You might want to lock that down.”

“Patrick’s been engaged before and he had an existential crisis about it,” David said.

“Patrick is gay and was engaged to a woman, so I don’t think that’s relevant.”

“Well, in any case, it’s too soon to… it’s too soon.”

Alexis shrugged.

“What would you do if Ted proposed again?” David asked.

“I’m pretty sure I ruined any chance of that happening. But who knows? Maybe I’ll propose to _him_ someday. No reason I couldn’t ask him to marry me if I wanted to,” Alexis said, picking up her magazine and pretending to be interested in it.

“No,” David said faintly, not thinking about Alexis and Ted at all. “No reason at all.”

David’s conversation with Alexis about his and Patrick’s future was still on his mind at work the next day, which made Patrick’s grumpy mood particularly ill-timed.

“What is _up_ with you?” David asked when Patrick thumped some of their precious merchandise down on a shelf a little too aggressively for the third time.

“I’ve been too busy to go grocery shopping and I was out of milk this morning,” he grumbled.

David winced, because he was pretty sure he’d used up a lot of that milk himself.

“And the stupid dryer in my apartment building ruined another one of my shirts,” Patrick continued.

“Well, is that really such a great loss?” David asked.

Patrick shot him a baleful look. “Really?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Patrick waved it away and started heading into the back, then just as quickly swung back around. “Did you call the other contractors on the list about giving us a quote on the bathroom reno?”

“Ronnie’s quote is fine. I told you we don’t need—”

“David.” Patrick’s hands went to his hips. 

“She’s our friend.” Which wasn’t exactly true — for some reason Ronnie’d never been more than politely skeptical of Patrick. But she was David’s friend.

“And conveniently, if we go with Ronnie you don’t have to call anyone else.”

“Excuse me, maybe I want to support another small business in town,” David said. “If it’s so important, why don’t _you_ call the other contractors?”

“Because I’ve got a million other things to do!” Patrick shouted, his hands flung up in annoyance. “But whatever, do what you want.” And he stalked into the back.

Patrick stayed hidden away throughout the rest of the morning while David helped customers, his stomach in a knot and the press of tears behind his eyes. He hated when they fought. Fortunately it didn’t happen often, but David wallowed internally while he sold people jars of honey and hand-knitted sweaters and body milk.

He finally stuck his head in the back at a quarter past noon. “Do you want a sandwich from the café?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, not looking up from the filing drawer he was searching through. “Thanks.”

When David returned, he walked carefully over to Patrick’s desk and set the styrofoam container down in front of him. “I told Twyla that you were angry with me, and she gave you an extra pickle.”

Patrick looked up, his eyes sorrowful. “I’m not angry with you. I’m sorry I shouted. I was having a bad morning and I took it out on you.”

David sat across from him, opening his own lunch container. “But I didn’t call those contractors.”

Sighing, Patrick took a bite of one of his pickle spears. “No, you were right. We should cultivate loyal relationships with other business owners in town. Especially since Ronnie’s on council.”

“Okay.” 

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes.

“The store is doing particularly well this month,” Patrick commented, sandwich in one hand while the other still scrolled on his scratchpad. A crumb dropped from Patrick’s sandwich onto his computer keyboard, making David wince.

“Yeah?”

“Mm hmm. Between the new product lines and your summer series of events, we’ve raked in record profits.”

David drummed his fingers on the desk. “So will you pay that out to us as a bonus, or…?”

Patrick arched an eyebrow. “No, I was thinking I’d use it to chip away at the list of things we wanted to do to improve the store. The bricks need repointing, and you wanted that wine fridge—”

“Or we could take a trip,” David said.

“A trip?”

“Yeah, a trip. A vacation. You and me, a beach, rum-based drinks, and minimal clothing.” He shimmied his shoulders a little, although the effect was somewhat lost since he was sitting down.

“That’s a lovely thought, David, but it would be a mistake to shut down the store to go on vacation when things are just starting to go so well. We should at least wait until we can afford an employee or two to cover for us while we’re out of town. And I think we might be a year away from that, based on my projections.” Patrick’s eyes were still focused on his spreadsheet.

“So in a year…”

Patrick finally looked at him and smiled. “In a year or two, we should take a trip.”

And sure, it hadn’t been that long ago that David had used the phrase _‘five years down the road’_ in reference to their relationship, but he still felt dizzy at Patrick so blithely making plans with him so far in the future.

“You’ll definitely have broken up with me in a year or two,” David demurred, a joke that wasn’t really a joke.

Patrick eyed him for a few seconds, and then stood up and came around from behind the desk. “Oh, I think the promise of rum-based drinks and minimal clothing will be enough to keep me around.” He reached out a hand and when David took it, Patrick pulled him to his feet. “We can start planning it, if you want. If the planning is something you’d enjoy.”

“I suppose that’s something I’d enjoy,” David said into Patrick’s mouth just before they kissed. It was slow and sweet, and David tried to ignore the fact that Patrick tasted like pickles.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off?” David asked when their lips parted, his fingers kneading Patrick’s shoulders. “It’s been a while since you’ve taken some time off to relax.”

“I took an extra day off last week,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, and I came back to your apartment to find you working on the quarterly taxes at home. I mean, _actually_ relax. Watch some porn. Read a book — and not a finance book! Read that baseball book you keep falling asleep on. I’ll take care of things here.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Mm hmm.” David kissed him again. “I insist.”

“Will you come over after?” Patrick asked, his hand squeezing David’s hip.

“Yeah.”

David floated through the afternoon on a happy cloud; he was even polite to Roland when he came into the store. It was equal parts relief that the small fight with Patrick hadn’t been that big a deal, and the smug satisfaction of having done something nice for his partner. At the end of the day, he didn’t even mind doing the tasks that he hated, like the bookkeeping.

When David slid his key into the lock of Patrick’s apartment and opened the door, the sparkling candlelight and the smell of something delicious cooking hit him simultaneously. Soft music was coming from the record player.

“I told you to relax,” David said, unable to keep his smile at the romantic tableau off his face. “Not slave away over dinner.” 

“I did relax. And then by four o’clock I was bored and I decided to do this,” Patrick said as he poured red wine into two glasses, then he noticed what David was holding. “You got milk.”

“You said you were out.” David handed the jug to Patrick, who took it and put it away, a smile on his face.

David sipped his wine. “What did you do this afternoon?”

“Pretty much what you suggested,” Patrick said, pulling a roasted chicken and potatoes out of the oven. “Jerked off, took a nap, replaced that broken string on my guitar, flipped through the Netflix menu without watching anything, and then read my book for a while.”

“Sounds like a good afternoon,” David murmured, his brain stuck on picturing the first thing.

“It did improve my day enormously,” Patrick said as he put food into plates, “so thank you.”

“Any time. Well, not _any_ time. The store is dull without you.”

They ate and drank and talked, and David thought again about what Alexis had said: that they were in it for the long haul. God, he was really starting to believe that was true.

Later, when they’d found their way into bed, Patrick’s hands were confident on his body, competent in the way he was when he operated a corkscrew or plucked his guitar. David felt a lazy kind of pleasure brimming over as Patrick touched him, a gentle thing that bubbled up as they moved together. They traded off using their mouths on each other’s cocks, slowly and without any need to race to the finish, just bringing each other pleasure for the enjoyment of the act itself, for the way it made the other man moan and gasp. The build was achingly slow until it wasn’t, until Patrick turned over onto his elbows and knees in obvious invitation.

David dragged out the process of preparing Patrick with his fingers until Patrick’s fists were clenched on his pillow, his voice ragged as he begged to be fucked. And then David kept at it a little longer still.

When he finally sank inside, Patrick was so keyed up that David worried he’d pushed things too far, that their orgasms would be too mistimed for them both to enjoy this as much as he wanted them to. But Patrick quieted as David fucked him, going to whatever place inside his head he went to stave off coming too soon. Then it was all long, slow strokes and David pressed against Patrick’s back, the sweat slick between them. _God,_ it was a crime how good it felt. 

“Harder,” Patrick finally said, finally giving in and stroking himself. “Please, harder.”

“I love you like this,” David groaned, his hips snapping forward with more force. “I’ll always want this with you. Always.”

Patrick had gone nonverbal, rocking back on his knees in time with David’s thrusts, and then he came and David could feel it, the pulses of it clenching around his cock, and he fell over the edge right after Patrick, his teeth against Patrick’s spine.

“Fuck, that was good,” Patrick slurred, collapsing onto his stomach once David had pulled out. They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom, a well-worn routine including comfortable pajamas and glasses of water before getting back into bed.

“This turned out to be a pretty good day,” Patrick said.

“We could go to Elmdale on Monday and I can help you pick out some new shirts,” David murmured, remembering Patrick’s morning frustration. 

“You just want a mall pretzel,” Patrick answered, but then he leaned over and kissed David’s cheek. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

It was only minutes before Patrick was softly snoring next to him. David was wide awake though, lying still and watching him sleep, imagining what their future together might be.


End file.
